


Be Cleansed in the Blood

by betterrecieved



Category: Spartacus: Vengeance, Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betterrecieved/pseuds/betterrecieved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked: can you write a really angsty!nasirxagron (because of his past as a slave) :) ?</p><p>Ficlet. Beta'd by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/teardrop193/pseuds/teardrop193%22">teardrop193</a>, any mistakes are my own!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Cleansed in the Blood

Nasir gasps when Agron speaks of commanding him.   After they have together consigned collar to grave! 

It is slap in face. 

No, it _worse_ than slap in face from Agron, for Nasir no longer holds any dread of physical pain.

Yet when Agron speaks of Nasir’s raised hackle, invades Nasir’s space with pointing fingers and harsh whisper -

Tiberius can only drop gaze to floor, stunned, while Nasir clenches jaw, conflicted.

But cringing head soon lifts, and it is Nasir who fights Agron with softly spoken pleas for Agron’s love.

Later, when Agron has found spare moment for apologizes, Nasir stands covered in Roman gore, breathing hard.

It is worst thing that has ever been required of him, but his voice is steady when he tells Agron never to do that to him again, or he will leave him.

For he is not subservient _slave_ Tiberius, and never again will he allow himself to be addressed as such. 

He is fearsome _warrior_ Nasir, who has killed himself and lived to tell of it:

 

Nasir is secretly glad of injury suffered while retreating from mines; where Agron is concerned, healing of wound forestalls further intimacy. 

For though Nasir does grow hard, pants and clutches and moans when Agron kisses him, runs big rough hands down his writhing body…

Nasir is not ready.

He had thought that with Agron, hulking, delicate-handed _Agron_ -

 

Yet thoughts of Tiberius invade mind like Roman legion:

Dominus being taken, snarling directions at Tiberius, who must concentrate on thoughts of more well-formed man to maintain erection.

Dominus taking him on his back, pressing cold damp palm hard into Tiberius’s face.

Tiberius upon hands and knees, dominus behind him, yanking Tiberius’ hair so hard his eyes water.

Tiberius’ eyes patiently fixed on dominus’ sagging belly as Dominus fists hair, pushing Tiberius’ head down further as he swallows dominus’ cock.

 

Agron’s touch does heal - this is truth undeniable.  But it heals slowly, in pace with reddening scar Nasir wears as proudly as raven locks which his brother so loved to braid.

Eventually, at temple of Vesuvius, wounds scab over.

Nasir makes love with Agron, and Agron’s hands are nothing like the past.

 

At Vesuvius, Agron tells Nasir: Do this!

Tiberius jumps to do this.

Agron tells Nasir: Do that!

Tiberius jumps to do that.

One day, soon after dear friend Chadara dies, Agron once again tells Nasir, Do this! Do that!

Nasir feels Tiberius jumping.

With raised voice he tells Agron: I do not have to fucking do this for you. I do not have to fucking do that for you.  Do it yourself.

’Apologies’, Agron says, cowed like little boy, tears in his eyes.

Then Nasir begins to cry also; shaming thought has belatedly occurred to him:

When Nasir says: Do this!

Agron _jumps_ to do this.

When Nasir says: Do that!

Agron _jump_ s to do that.

Nasir cannot make apologies enough, but Agron refuses them all, though he trembles.

And Nasir would jump into fucking searing hot _sun_ for Agron.

 

From their room within temple, Nasir pops his head into hallway, listening for Agron’s footstep.   

Once satisfied that Agron is still training recruits and does not approach, Nasir kneels by bedding, unearthing covertly salvaged object.

Nasir sits down and with sick guilty feeling wringing stomach, fastens it on.

He stares at Tiberius in hand mirror.

Wrenching object off viciously, he stares at Nasir again, fascinated.

Again and again Nasir does this, trance-like, until he hears sharp gasp above him and startles.

Mirror shatters onto floor as Nasir looks up into Agron’s wide eyes.

‘You are _Nasir_!’ Agron tells him fiercely, as they bury slave collar beside Chadara’s resting place. ‘You have _always_ been Nasir, and always _will_ be.’

Nasir knows, he _knows_. 

Is it sign of weakness to require occasional reminder?

‘No’, Agron replies, tamping down dirt with big feet.  ‘You are strongest man I have _known_.  It is only sign of Rome’s inhumanity.’

With soil packed tight over collar it is as if Tiberius’ weak flame has been smothered.

Nasir is Nasir in all ways after that, and Nasir is _astonishing_.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my 100% headcanon but just exploring what if...I have more to write on this prompt...
> 
> Edited to take out Nasir's anachronistic contractions.


End file.
